Sugar
by Scripturiens
Summary: One moment you're standing alone, a cigarette popped in your mouth and the next she's standing before you, clad in pink tulle, and she smells so sweet you can only wonder if that's what she tastes like, too. [Mimato, one-shot]


**Notes:** I'm very behind on updates but this piece begged to be written. I promise I'll get to my stories, eventually. For now, enjoy a little stream of consciousness.

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 **Disclaimer:** Digimon does not belong to me.

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One moment you're standing alone, a cigarette popped in your mouth and the next she's standing before you, clad in pink tulle and she smells so sweet, you can only wonder if that's what she tastes like, too.

Because that's what people say about her, isn't it? That's what all your friends think about her, too. Even your ex-girlfriend's half in love with her by now, if she hadn't been before. And you've never once looked at her and thought _'yeah, she's sweet'_. No, when you first met her, you wondered how someone could wear so much _pink_. You'll deny it forever, but you also wondered what kind of girl could possibly look _good_ in all that pink, not at all ridiculous, just like — like she was _born_ to wear it. Like it was made just for her.

And then you wondered if it was possible you'd be so unlucky to be stuck with a little brother that you only half know and this bunch of weird kids in this God-forsaken place, of all places, and this girl - this _girl_ , the first thing she does is make cutesy faces at your brother and share candy with him. And she smiles, as if your lives didn't depend on the fighting skills of little creatures you're pretty fucking sure shouldn't have existed. Of course Takeru adores her and you think you might hate her, because you haven't been able to make him smile like that since he was three.

Time passes and you ease into this strange place and the kids that you thought so weird at first, they're still pretty weird, but there's something about sharing a dozen or so near-death experiences; you just can't go out of it without making some friends. So you travel with them, and hunt and forage for food with them, and sleep with them, and after a while, you can't help it, you're hoping you guys will make it and it doesn't feel like a stupid thing to hope for anymore.

You learn things about each other, about your favourite colours (you'd have been damned if you'd even asked), about your pets, and family, and about the things you like to do. For fuck's sake, you even sat there, eating a shitload of eggs you found in a mysterious abandoned fridge, discussing how you'd eat them at home and you can hear her say she'd love to have some sweet syrup and there's that word again, _sweet_ , and you can only try not to gag. _Eggs aren't supposed to be eaten with syrup or sugar, Mimi-san_ , because the fanciest thing you've seen on eggs is Benedict sauce, and you're pretty sure it's just another name for warm yolks.

So you try not to let it get to you, how different this girl is. Mimi, who grew up with a pair of lovey-dovey parents. Mimi, who is an only child and quite fucking glad to be so, thanks. Mimi, who has lots of friends at school and lots of admirers, too, and who doesn't shy away from the attention, like you do; she fucking _thrives_ on it. You keep out of her way because she's a snotty brat and you don't like how she calls you out on your bullshit, how she calls everyone out on their bullshit, but you secretly do, and wish you were like that, too.

She's there, with her huge pink cowboy hat and she's sitting next to the fire and you're tired, it's her turn to keep watch and you're so fucking tired, but she looks so alone, so bereft and you just know you won't be able to sleep if you leave her like that. So you sit down far from her, you don't even _look_ at her and after a while, you take out your old brass harmonica and you play. You don't know why, but you've never been good with words and she just looked like she needed something you couldn't give her. When you look up, half expecting her to laugh or say something really stupid, you're faced with the realisation that she's crying. She's been crying this whole time and she didn't want you to notice, you can see that now, because that's why she'd been so quiet.

She murmurs _thank you_ and _I'm sorry_ and _good night, Yamato-san_ , and you nod wordlessly, half-forgetting all she mumbled. But you know you won't forget the look on her face.

A lot of things happen, in which you fight and win battles you never expected to live through, find strengths you never knew you had. You make friends, for the first time in God knows how long, and it feels like they've been there all along. Even her, with her stupid cowboy hat and that bag full of seemingly useless shit that has saved your life so many times, it's no longer funny. Your new best friend is lost and you all feel lost, you're just the only one who won't admit it and everyone leaves, everyone wants to find him, or find themselves, and you do, you find yourself missing her smile and her good mood and how the air around her always seems to smell like strawberries.

It's been such a long time and you've lost too many friends. She's mourning, when all Taichi can do is keep moving forward and you understand her better than anyone because you're not stupid, you've seen how your friends have been behaving these days and they're all walking on the edge of a knife. So when Taichi claims he doesn't understand her, you just tell him it's okay to mourn, that it's respectful and it's the right thing to do and _shut up already, can't you see she's in pain?_

When you leave, you know you've never been more excited to see home, even if it's only for a while, even if you've still gotta face another impossible horror, it's _home_ and your dad is there and — and so is your mum. God, you never cried so much before, but as she holds you, you think that all that stuff in that place didn't matter because you're here now, and you're fine, and so is your family.

But there's no time for this, no time to sit and hold her hand, you're _not_ here to hold her hand. You're here to fight, and you do. You all do, and in the end, she does too. When all's about to be lost she comes in with an army behind her, a force to be reckoned and you're reminded of your grandmother and how she used to say that you could attract more flies with honey than with vinegar and you're only just beginning to understand her. Like the saving grace you're not yet convinced she is, she swoops down into battle and she's more beautiful and more terrifying than you've ever seen her before, but it's okay, you think.

It's strange, knowing you saved the world. It's a feeling you never quite forget, but one that never quite sinks in, either.

I mean, you went back, and people know strange things happened but your parents and other adults did a fine job of covering up for you and no-one knows you were there. Before you know it, everything's back to normal and at the same time, it's all different.

She's gone, for one. All the way up in America (or is it down? you can never remember). But her parents have taken her away and you're here with Taichi, and Sora, and everyone else, but she's gone and it feels like something's missing, whenever you're together.

Of course shit happens, of course some fucking kid would get it inside his head that he could play war on the world and of course you'd be all-too-willing to help but there's no need to now, because there are other kids now, new chosen ones, and all you can do is be of service when you can and let them do their thing. You've got your band and Taichi's got soccer and Jyou's got cram school and Koushiro's been cozying it up with the new kids, and Sora's got tennis now, she's doing that thing with her mother, too, and you're seeing more of her than you've ever seen before.

One day you invite them to a concert and suddenly you're getting a chocolate cake, and you're not quite sure how that happened, but Sora's always been _cool_ , she's always been someone you've admired and you think that counts, so what the hell? You take the goddamn cake. Next thing you know you're carrying her bag and holding her hand and when you kiss, it's like the world stops for a little while, and it's fun. It's nice, yeah. Real nice.

You should've known it would all go to hell. I mean, you don't even like chocolate cake. Your tongue feels like sandpaper and you're not quite sure where it all went down but Sora doesn't want to see you anymore and the really sad thing is that you haven't been wanting to see her in a long while. Perhaps she wouldn't hate you now, if you hadn't said that to begin with.

Things had been weird for a while, and you can't imagine it getting better. Maybe you've outgrown these people, these friends. Maybe you need to focus on other things, better things, and that's what you've been doing, that's what you've been _trying_ to do. You've kept mostly to yourself, and Takeru, and Taichi, every now and then. You don't answer calls and after a while, they stop coming. But Takeru tells you it's time, that it's a special occasion and you can't miss, so here you are, outside in the biting autumn air, trying to light a goddamn cigarette and smoke that awkward taste lingering on the back of your throat away.

They're all inside, you can hear them laughing and clinking glasses and drinking champagne, because they're older now, more _sophisticated_ , and _Sapporo Light_ doesn't really look good in this kind of party. Fine by you, you don't even like _Sapporo_ to begin with. You close your eyes, shift your feet to keep your legs warm and when you open them, she's right there. _Right there_ , in your fucking face.

She's saying something, asking if you're okay, or rather, _demanding_ to know if you left because of Jyou and Sora. She goes on to say Jyou had been meaning to tell you and Sora owed you no explanations and your brows keep furrowing because you don't give a _fuck_ about Jyou or Sora, even less about Jyou and Sora together. But she clearly mistakes this as anger or hurt and her voice rises an octave, she's all but screeching now and you don't know how to get her to shut up — she's driving you crazy waxing verbose, hands moving exaggeratedly, impossibly long eyelashes fluttering incessantly in your line of vision.

This girl — _this fucking girl_ , she never shuts up.

You can hear it, how she's trying to remind you what good friends they've been to you. But you know, you remember vividly, because how could you ever forget? How could anyone forget what any of you have been through? It's been so long, but sometimes you still catch yourself thinking about it. It's gotten better, you've gotten loads better, and you know you probably wouldn't have, if it hadn't been thanks to Jyou and Sora. So even if they are together, what do you care about that? You're happy for them. You don't say it, because you don't think you have to and you don't think she'd like that, but you are as happy as a person can be in your situation.

She's throwing her hair back now, mouth forming _Os_ and _As_ and pointing a perfectly manicured finger at you with menace. Her breasts are bouncing as she walks up and down and you try not to get distracted, try to offer her your jacket (or at least, you would, if you had it on you), but the girl won't shut up, won't stop and as she gets closer you get wafted into her intoxicating scent and, desperate, you throw your cigarette away, still lit.

She was about to yell at you for littering, you could almost _feel_ it.

But now she's staring at you dumbfounded because your mouth found its way to hers and you kissed her for a while, dragged her closer with a hand on the nape of her neck.

And she kissed you back.

She kissed you back, and now she's staring, mouth open like a silly goldfish, you think, but you don't say it, in case it infuriates her more.

And you shake your head and you groan and you say _no fucking way_ , because after all this time, after everyone saying it and abusing the fucking metaphor, you're in front of Tachikawa Mimi, her lipgloss still smeared on your lips and all you can think of is she tastes _sweet_ , so _sweet_ , and you know with an absolutely earth-shattering certainty that you want to kiss her again.

And again.

And again.


End file.
